Teenage Kicks Right Through The Night
by Mister Shedz
Summary: What if St Trinian's wasn't the only hallmark of rebellion in the education system? There's always a bigger fish, and this bigger fish has just showed up for the usual business transaction. Rated M for later chapters. If you're lucky.
1. Trouble and their Lawyer

It wasn't a good day to be Kelly Jones. This in all honesty was a surprise. Being the Head Girl, even in a place like St Trinian's, afforded various benefits: her own room, a private parking space, even a weekly bottle of scotch from Miss Fritton. There was also the respect.

Correction: there was fear, which translated into respect.

Double correction: there was USUALLY fear, which USUALLY translated into respect.

Today, fear and respect were absent without leave. So were Kelly's clothes.

Lip curling, the Head Girl looked down at herself. Pyjamas. That's what she was wearing. And, by all indication, that's what she would be wearing for a long time, given the general lack of anything else garment-wise in her room. It wasn't exactly a whodunit. Living in St Trinian's meant that there was the same culprit at the end of every crime.

Unfortunately, this was a culprit that happened to be several hundred people. Kelly almost cracked a smile; she was, to a degree, impressed. Her classmates were purported, mainly by themselves, to fear nothing outside of their school. Kelly Jones was, however, very much inside the school. The only word for it was "ballsy".

Any other time, Kelly would have rewarded her classmates for their ambition and courage by stalking the school halls, pyjama clad and hockey stick in hand, wreaking havoc the kind of which hadn't been seen since…yesterday. Yet today was no ordinary day. Today, some visitors were coming to the school on business. And Kelly knew that one of these visitors was the reason why she was looking at an empty wardrobe. She simply didn't have time for this.

The slim brunette strode to the door, stepping out into the corridor. A few feet down the corridor there was another door. It was pink. Very pink. It was this door that Kelly opened, because it was behind this door that Chelsea, Chloe and Peaches lived. They were the Posh Totty. And if anyone had a stake in Kelly's absence from this morning's proceedings, it was them.

The room was…pink. Very pink. The very atmosphere itself smelt of expensive perfume and even more expensive hormones. There was enough lace and leather in evidence to make a _Victoria's Secret_ catalogue. Home sweet home.

The three Totties in question were, at present, gathered around a phone; their backs were to Kelly. It wasn't like she'd have to be stealthy, then. Whilst not as stupid as they were believed to be by…well…everyone, the corset-clad classmates were very easily distracted. During one of their private phone calls, their vision was pretty much based on movement. Quite noticeable movement. With some sort of loud fanfare to announce said-movement.

Kelly stepped closer, now listening to what sort of conversation was being carried out.

"Oh Charles," sighed Peaches, her eyes sparkling with manufactured lust, "I do wish that you could visit the school for a few days. Think of all the things that we could do together." She waited for the reply, smoothing back her hair with a cheerful smile at the sound of deep breathing getting faster; another soon-to-be-satisfied customer.

Kelly actually hated to threaten business like this, but the Head Girl was the Head Girl, and her clothes were her clothes. Business was a secondary concern in this particular matter.

She leaned forward, taking a firm grasp of both Chloe and Chelsea's hair and putting her mouth to their ears. She waited for the girls to finish gasping and stifling their own cries of alarm before continuing.

"If my clothes," she whispered, "aren't returned to me in the next ten seconds, I am going to put an end to that conversation in the most interesting way that I possibly can. And, as you already know, I've got some damn good ideas in that area…"

Before she knew it, Kelly was back in her room, holding a pile of what seemed to be all of her clothes. It seemed that the Totties had even had someone iron them for her as well. That was so like those three; they'd attempt to sabotage your most important day of the year with giggles galore, but they wouldn't have you looking like a slob at any other time.

Something fell from the large pile of clothes, hitting the floor. It was black and somewhat stiff. Kelly frowned, using a foot to flip it over. It definitely wasn't hers, because she didn't own anything like this. It was a corset. A very revealing corset. Obviously the Posh Totties had still not learned the basics of sorting clothes.

_Then again_, Kelly mused, flinging the clothes as one into her wardrobe, _neither have you._

Thirty miles away, inside a small, black car, trouble approached. It was a lot of trouble. It was the reason for Kelly's heightened sense of urgency; it was the reason that the Posh Totty had become unsuccessful saboteurs.

This was the kind of trouble that made normal trouble look unshaven and unkempt. This was the kind of trouble that girls, especially the Belles of St Trinian's, went to sleep dreaming about. This was the sexiest trouble that you ever did see.

Twenty-nine miles away.

Kelly, finally dressed in her uniform, examined herself in the mirror; her hair was fine; her make-up was flawless; her figure was tempting. Perfect. If she could keep that in mind for the next few days, this might end well.

_But it never does end well with him, does it, Kel?_ And there was that treacherous little bitch of a voice at the back of her mind. Which, she reminded herself, was the voice of her own doubt.

And her own experience.

Kelly looked into her reflection's eyes. She could feel the doubt now. It was all so stupid; she'd spent days building herself up to this and, now, she was watching herself fall apart. And only one person could do that to her.

She blinked, shaking herself. This was ridiculous. She had to stop thinking like this; she was driving herself insane in an empty room. Her eyes flickered to her bookshelf. The latest bottle of scotch, the typical token of appreciation from the headmistress, stood full and inviting, somehow standing out from its surroundings.

Kelly glanced at the clock. She had time.

The small black car pulled to a stop at the gate. Four pairs of eyes turned to look at the sign that read "St Trinian's School for Young Ladies". The skulls lining the sign were also quite the eyecatcher. Three mouths stretched into grim smiles as the car set off, now going at a much more sedate pace. They were being watched now.

Kelly regarded the amber liquid at the bottom of her glass. As much as she appreciated the weekly bottle of Famous Grouse, she would always be a vodka girl. The whisky was already making her brain feel too small for her skull. All she wanted, right now, was just to –

"Black eagle! Black eagle!" the Head Girl stared at her door, hearing the faint cry from the corridor. "They're here! Stations!"

Her body feeling like something that did not quite belong to her, she crossed as quickly as she could to the window. There was the car-_oh god they're here-_and she could see through the window-_oh god HE'S here_-and the door was opening-_OH GOD_.

Kelly couldn't remember ever moving faster in her life. Time seemed to slow as she burst through her door, threw herself down the stairs, rebounded off Andrea as she sprinted through the corridor, finally skidding to a halt in front of the main door.

For that one second, Kelly forgot that she could move.

In the second that followed it, Kelly remembered that she was a St Trinian's girl. That was the thought that had kept her strong all of these years. That was the one part of her that had given her the ability to push the envelope further than anybody else.

It was the reason that she pushed open the door, stepped out into the May sunshine and simply said: "Alright?"

One of the figures that had stepped out of the car had his back to the school, but at the sound of Kelly's voice, he turned around, removed the sunglasses that prevented those burning, hypnotic eyes from locking onto hers.

"Hey there, Kel," he said.

Cal Calavera had come to St Trinian's.

Kelly Jones looked at the four young men standing by the car. Every girl at that school knew them by sight and, in the case of three of them, by name.

The first of them, Tony Copal, leaned against the vehicle, his steady gaze meeting that of those around him. His skin was tinged with the handsome tan of South America, and his suit was probably worth more than the car he'd just stepped out of. Despite his attractive appearance and the modest smile that played about his lips, Kelly knew that there were certainly no less than four knives concealed about his person. Tony liked knives. This made him popular with the schoolgirls.

Next to Tony stood The Courier. That was the closest that anybody, even his closest friends, had come to knowing his name. He was a good-looking boy, but appeared to do everything that he could to remain entirely nondescript and unnoticed by those around him. He upheld himself with a quiet and unflappable dignity that, even in the deepest depths of St Trinian's, had never failed him.

Frank Callaghan was, almost entirely, the contrast to The Courier. Everything about his screamed of lust: his dark curly hair; his bright turquoise eyes; his slim, tapering form. Soon enough, everyone he met ended up screaming as well. Dignity was always the last thing on Frank's mind.

And next to Frank, there was Cal. Cal Calavera. Even with the most sexually active and appealing boy that Kelly knew of standing close, there was still something about Cal that made him extinguish everything around him. The Head Girl had long ago stopped trying to work out what that quality was; she had succumbed to it a long time ago.

Now Cal was standing in front of her again.

"Long journey?" Kelly asked, stepping forward with what she hoped was a lazy, casual pace.

Cal smiled, beginning to walk towards her as he said: "Long enough, thanks. Still," he continued, his eyes looking deep into hers, "it's nice to be back."

Kelly returned the smile, brushing a stray hair from her eyes not-entirely unintentionally. "You missed this place that much, then?"

The young man reached forward, his slim fingers slowly moving aside the hair that Kelly had also not-entirely unintentionally left in front of her face. Kelly had to fight not to catch her breath, and hoped to hell that she wasn't blushing.

"I missed something," came his reply. NOW Kelly felt the rising heat in her neck, slowly yet inevitably spreading to her cheeks. She didn't want the whole school to see her face turn red in front of one boy, but she couldn't look away from those dark, haunting eyes.

Luckily, Tony wasn't entirely without a heart, and he stepped forward.

"You called about wanting to do business, Kelly. We've got some gear with us that we didn't mention over the phone; we may be here a little longer than planned."

_And I'd bet that Cal had just a little something to do with THAT_, that small, sly voice in her head whispered. Kelly didn't care; she didn't even hear it. She was just trying not to look too cheerful at the prospect.

"Still don't trust electronics, Tony?" she asked, pleased with how steady and businesslike her own voice sounded.

Tony simply grinned in reply; his strange phobia of discussing arrangements and conducting any form of negotiation over the phone was quite well known; apparently he was paranoid about having his voice recorded. Still, Kelly was in no state to complain, as he always seemed to bring Cal along with him. And friendship was one thing, but she knew that in any other situation it would take a miracle to persuade Tony to spend two hours in a car with Cal. On the last journey alone, The Courier had been forced to dictate a strict "no knives in the car" policy after the first ten minutes. Tony suffered Cal's constant attempts to irritate him on those journeys for Kelly and, in a small part, for Cal himself. She'd have to tell the girls to be VERY nice to him this weekend.

Kelly looked back at Cal, who hadn't taken his eyes from her face.

"You boys want anything?" she asked, keeping her voice steadily casual. "Food, drink..."

"I," the Courier stated, stepping towards the building, "would appreciate a brief meeting with Miss Fritton. The two of us have some business that requires discussion."

"Fritton's in her office; she's expecting you." Kelly replied, stepping aside to allow the serious young man access to the school. "Nice to see you, by the way."

The Courier's expression didn't change, but he inclined his head respectfully to her as he passed by. "A pleasure as always, Miss Jones."

Tony stretched with a long yawn as his colleague walked through the imposing doorway; his jacket hung open just enough that Kelly could see one long knife securely fastened to the lining.

"Where can a man get a double espresso around here?" he asked, fully aware of the stir that the appearance of an edged weapon had caused amongst the ranks of the girls gathered around him.

With her trademark yet still uncanny silence, Zoe stepped forwards. The diminutive emo had always had an eye for Tony. Kelly noticed with a slight smile that the girl had straightened her hair and that her typical black attire had been arranged into a vaguely alluring fashion; not that Zoe would ever admit that she'd taken care of her appearance for anyone, even a young man with several knives about his person and (almost certainly) several murders in his past.

"We've been seeing how long we can stay awake for," she hissed softly. "There're still a few pints of espresso to go."

Tony smiled. "How long has it been so far?"

"Four days. I've been seeing my dead relatives since two o'clock this morning."

The Latino didn't bat an eyelid; he'd seen his fair share of dead people, too. "Lead on, emo chick."

"I told you not to call me that."

"You love it."

Kelly and Cal exchanged a look. She did. That was the reason that her hand was already gently entwining itself in Tony's. The Head Girl could never really figure that one out; the second-in-command of the emo faction of St Trinian's was even less approachable than Andrea, her leader. Yet introduce one possible murderer into the mix and she became as docile as a kitten.

A black kitten, admittedly. A black kitten with sharp claws and mischief in its eyes, but a creature that still more likely to rub up against Tony than go for his jugular. Not many boys could expect that treatment. Certainly not Cal or the Courier, though they would escape less scathed than others. Perhaps Frank.

Oh yes…Frank. Frank was…already gone. And that was that. She wouldn't see him for the rest of the visit. Possibly he would resurface a few weeks later, quietly sneaking away into the surrounding woodland.

Well…Frank's version of sneaking. Frank's version of sneaking had never seemed to involve much subtlety. Or, for that matter, much clothing. Or, for another matter, much not-getting-caught. That was Frank for you.

The Posh Totty wouldn't be seen for a while either. So much for business not suffering.

Kelly was so lost in her thoughts that she had yet to realise that she and Cal were alone; the girls had left along with the Courier, Tony and Frank. Mostly Frank. Before she could say anything, before she could panic, before she could THINK…Cal's lips pressed against hers. His hands crept around her body, sliding slowly down to her waist; his tongue gently quested into Kelly's mouth, whose own tongue caressed his as her eyes closed.

It was a good day to be Kelly Jones.


	2. Knives, Scotch, Love and Frank

Kelly opened her eyes as the kiss broke, looking at Cal. For one, beautiful moment there was nothing in the world that could bother her. Life was…just…beautiful.

Then Cal's own dark eyes opened, and every single doubt flooded back. In front of that boy, with everything that had passed between the two of them…there was nothing that she could predict.

Cal smiled at her, and then frowned slightly, seeing the flicker of worry that had passed behind her eyes. He opened his mouth , but before he could ask what was wrong, Kelly took his hand in hers, forcing a smile through all of the insecurity that was ricocheting through her mind.

"Come on," she said. "I'll give you the grand tour."

"Yeah…I'm sure it's changed a lot since the last time I was here." Cal grinned.

Kelly simply looked at Cal, waiting for him to work it out. As intelligent as he was, he was still a boy. Finally, she saw the light bulb go off in his head as he looked at the building.

"It's…"

"Not the same one." Kelly finished, now smiling properly. She couldn't exactly blame Cal; after so many moves she herself was beginning to feel like every building was simply blurring into just one school.

Cal frowned, glancing back at the Head Girl. "Another fire?"

Kelly simply nodded in reply.

"But…that's three…"

"In four years, I know. It was the distillery this time. Someone left a cigarette near the eighty proof. By the time we found out…" Kelly tailed off, preferring to leave some things to the imagination. And Cal had a vivid imagination; judging by the look in his eyes, it was working.

Finally, Cal sighed, smiling again. He squeezed Kelly's hand again. "So…how about that tour?"

Five minutes later, the two teens were walking the corridors of the latest St Trinian's. Skulls and suits of armour lined the walls, with artistic flourishes added by the more creatively minded girls. Old masters were pinned to walls; most of them were paintings. And, as always, there was that wonderful St Trinian's feeling of constantly being watched.

Kelly led Cal to a closed door, walking up to the black, scratched wood. Not bothering to knock, she pushed the door open.

A knife flew entirely too close to Kelly's face en route to the wall next to her, burying itself into the plaster of the wall without so much as a shudder. Kelly, despite the years of what could legally be called physical and mental abuse, gasped at the blade's proximity.

"Oops," Tony commented, superbly unconcerned by the nose amputation that Kelly had nearly suffered. Kelly turned to glare at him, and then had to turn away again. Tony was shirtless, holding a knife in each hand. Zoe, Andrea and the other twelve emo girls in the room were slightly less attired; the lucky ones still had their bras.

Kelly addressed the knife-peppered wall as opposed to her unclothed classmates. "Seriously, Tony? You're doing this again?"

The Head Girl could actually sense Tony's grin as he twirled one of the knives around his finger; she knew for a fact that Cal was wearing a very similar smile right behind her. "Sorry, Kelly. But people know what they're getting into when they start this sort of thing."

Of course they did. The emos had learned long ago that Tony wasn't, as a rule, enamoured with women. Certainly, he was attracted to and enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, but his mind had always been primarily occupied with business and, of course, throwing knives at anything without a pulse. The fact that the girls, not satisfied just to watch a rich, handsome Latin gentleman make holes in the wall, had made a strip game out of Tony's favourite activity was par for the course.

Kelly only hoped that this time Tony would actually notice when the girls lost the last pieces of their clothes; his last visit didn't entirely beg remembrance. Being left to handle a bunch of Marilyn Manson stylists with body issues wasn't her idea of a fun weekend.

Unable to look her classmates in the eye, and unwilling to look them anywhere else, Kelly turned around and left the room, though not so quickly that she didn't see Cal cheerfully wink to his best friend. Boys.

The two climbed up the main staircase, already scarred from the various hockey match psych-up sessions and impromptu anger management classes. Passing by the Headmistress's office, Cal frowned, hesitating outside the door. Kelly stopped as well. Straining their ears, they could just make out the conversation between Miss Fritton and the Courier. Kelly was intrigued; she couldn't for the life of her imagine a less likely pair.

"Miss Fritton, what you must realise is that if the government does indeed change, then the Conservative Party are hardly going to hold back like current administration. You may want to consider a more convincing public face. That is, if you want the school to remain open."

"Well, of course I want this place to stay open, lad! Aside from anything else, these premises were an absolute steal." Miss Fritton sounded surprisingly businesslike, yet that was hardly a surprise; the Courier was a force that made many focus on reality and all of its interesting loopholes. "But all of this talk about change and excitement: that's simply poppycock! Nobody's going to let the Conservatives in; it isn't the nineteen eighties anymore. Besides, even if the worst should happen, this institution has stood whilst governments rose and fell. We've seen new Ministers for Education off quite satisfactorily, thank-you very much."

The Courier kept his voice calm and level, just like always: "It would be wise to remember the…special circumstances between the late Miss Spottiswood and Sir Horace."

"Oh; that she was riding him for every penny she could get! Ah…old Amber was a girlie that knew how to get things done. It was really rather genius of her, you know."

"I don't doubt it. But unless you have a similar arrangement with the Conservative replacement for the post then you may want to tread somewhat carefully."

"Well, thanks for worrying, old boy. I do appreciate having an eye and ear on the outside world. Whiskey?"

Kelly and Cal exchanged a glance; that was all they were going to hear. They set off down the corridor again, finally drawing to a halt next to the very pink door. Both of them looked at it, almost drawn towards it by some form of hidden power. They knew that Frank was behind the door. They also knew that Posh Totty were there as well.

It took all of Kelly's self-control not to burst into the room, just to end the tension that seemed to be filling it. But, like standing on the edge of a cliff and hearing that little voice whispering "jump", it was best to ignore the first instinct. It would be fairly messy in there.

Instead, they turned to the other door; the door with a plaque stating: "Head Girl". The door to the room where there was a total lack of other people, half a bottle of whiskey and one large bed.

It was almost harder to open this door.

Finally, however, her hand enclosed on the brass doorknob, opening the door to her room and letting Cal walk inside. She followed him, self-consciously locking the door as she closed it.

Cal looked around the room, smiling as he looked at the various improvised weaponry that cluttered the place; Kelly had never been a great one for tidiness. He turned to look at her, gesturing vaguely. "Home sweet home."

"Fourth one in four years," she replied. Cal nodded, but didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on her; Kelly could swear that she felt his gaze caressing her body like his tongue had caressed hers on the outside drive…she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Whatever was about to happen, she would let it happen and gladly, but why did she have to be reduced to this quivering collection of nerves at the slightest glance from him?

She felt a light tingling in her stomach; Cal hadn't looked away, making no secret of where his eyes were straying. Kelly took a breath, trying to keep her head, trying to stay in control. She pointed at the bottle of Famous Grouse, already somewhat drained due to her attempts at gaining some liquid courage that morning, for all the good it had done. Still, if at first you don't succeed…

"Drink?" she managed.

Kelly and Cal sat on the bed, both holding a glass of whiskey. Kelly had relented, mixing hers with some water in an attempt to stop her head feeling like an orange being squeezed in a vice. Cal drank his straight, swallowing the smoky liquid without comment; Kelly couldn't imagine the state of his liver. Not like she was one to talk, though.

The alcohol hadn't done a damn thing for her, either. If anything, it had made it worse. There were no longer butterflies fluttering in her stomach; now there were wildebeests stampeding down there. She could actually hear her heart beating like a sledgehammer striking a wall and she hoped that Cal didn't have good hearing. The tension was killing her, and yet that bastard could just sit there, almost as if he didn't notice it.

Oh God, what if he didn't notice it? What if it was all her? What was she to him, really? Somebody he just happened to see every few months on a business matter? Someone to while away the hours with, simply because she was an easy target? Was it because she was Head Girl; was there some form of status gained from bending her over a desk and…

What was the great Kelly Jones to him except lips, breasts, legs and…and…

_And someone who loved him?_

This last thought hit the great Kelly Jones like a thunderbolt. But there it was; there could be no mistaking it. She loved Cal Calavera. Not matter the time that passed from her waving him goodbye and shuddering with ecstasy in his warm embrace; no matter the distance between them; no matter how many others there had been for them between every each other…she loved him. Kelly Jones was, for the first time, in love.

Bloody perfect.

This entire inner monologue had passed through Kelly's mind in the amount of time it had taken her to sip her scotch and then concentrate on not spitting it right back out. She tried to give no signs that anything was wrong; she couldn't do anything stupid right now.

Cal had already finished his whiskey; he was turning the glass over in his hands, toying idly with it. Kelly, embarrassed at the thought of keeping him waiting, drained her own glass, and then was seized in the spasms of a coughing fit that rose up from her very core.

Cal slapped her hard on the back, which helped stop the coughs, but tears began to leak out of Kelly's eyes. She felt them as surely as she felt the burning sensation in her throat and, mortified, tried to turn away, but Cal had already taken her by the shoulders, turning her back around to face him.

Gently, his finger reached out, nimbly wiping away the dampness from her eyes. Kelly couldn't believe it; she felt like a child having the tears of a tantrum wiped away. She wished the earth could just swallow her whole; it was an overdone request, but surely this kind of humiliation was worth it.

Almost unwillingly, she looked Cal, her eyes still hot from those shameful tears. But he just sat there, smiling that peculiar smile that suggested he knew what was going to happen, and was waiting to see whether you did as well. Kelly guessed that it was just one of the reasons that she was apparently in love with him.

And now Cal was moving closer, his lips parting. Kelly closed her eyes, happy to close the blinds on the world as she knew it. She felt Cal's lips meet hers; his tongue gently but firmly pushing into her mouth, lazily sweeping across hers as if to wake it.

Kelly felt herself being laid gently back onto the bed, Cal moving clumsily over, mid-kiss, to straddle her, his lips still pressed against hers.

Cal's hands, so warm and smooth, slipped under her school shirt, sliding over her stomach, pausing briefly to stroke her bellybutton. Kelly felt a tingling between her thighs. This was real and this was happening _and she loved Cal_. She reached up, deftly undoing the shirt's buttons whilst still letting her tongue wander and explore his mouth. The shirt lay open; Cal's hands stroked the black lace bra, sending a further wave of subconscious excitement rocketing through Kelly. Not trying to mask her eagerness, she unfastened the garment, letting Cal gently pull the dark fabric from her breasts, revealing all that lay under there.

At this moment, Cal actually pulled away from the kiss, gazing at the half-naked Kelly Jones with affection and lust that almost bordered on wonder. His fingers lightly stroked her nipples, and he smiled as they hardened under his touch. He quickly removed his own shirt; he was slim underneath, with some fading bruises leaving momentary reminders of his past exploits. The blotched colours didn't bother Kelly; it only made the man who carried them even more wonderful to her; his beauty couldn't be marred by something so insignificant. Her hands rubbed against the tapestry of shades that had been formed on his skin. Cal winced ever so slightly, twitching at her touch.

His eyes found hers and, for a moment that could have lasted lifetime, they knew each other. Kelly felt Cal's hand slide up her leg, under her skirt, gently tugging at her knickers. Kelly closed her eyes again.

_I love you_.


	3. Of Emos and Spaghetti

Kelly gazed at the ceiling, lying back on the bed. Cal was next to her; she wondered what he was thinking. Screw that; she wondered what SHE was thinking. She was in her bed, watching the sun filter in through the blinds on her window, feeling the person that she apparently loved breathing next to her. She was still breathing hard; every inch of her skin was cooling down like metal being taken out of a furnace. But it wasn't the sex.

Well…it wasn't JUST the sex. The sex had been, arguably, contributory. It was those three little syllables that had been conceived the moment that Cal had quietly finished his whisky, just waiting for her to be ready; the same three words were jangling about in her brain this very second. Even in the throes of her climax she had thought those words again and again; it was all she had been able to do not to cry out that terrible, burning secret. _I love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou…_

This was insane. SHE was insane.

It may have interested Kelly to know that she wasn't the only person questioning sanity at that moment. Admittedly, Zoe wasn't questioning her own sanity. She was far past that. Zoe was currently questioning the thought capacity of the topless Latin gentleman who was tossing a knife from hand to hand.

She was here. She was standing in a now-empty bedroom with him. And, thanks to Tony's favourite game, she was now in her black, silver-studded corset and lacy black knickers. Without trying to be arrogant about things, she considered this to be a fairly tempting offer.

But Tony was just so…maddeningly unaware of the situation. It wasn't even as if he was doing it on purpose; he just seemed to be genuinely blind to the fact that he was in a room with a young lady in a state of _deshabille_. The boy was an enigma that kept getting more and more puzzling.

As Tony tossed the knife he was holding from hand to hand, Zoe's thoughts began to spiral with uncharacteristic gloom. She was, of course, no stranger to a negative viewpoint; in fact she quite enjoyed them, but never before had she had so much doubt in herself.

_What if I'm not attractive? What if he's just a friend, trying not to embarrass me?_

Zoe looked at Tony, wondering what his type of woman was. Because it apparently wasn't a shorter-than-average emo girl with dyed hair and a pale complexion. He probably preferred the Posh Totty, with their high heels, expensive accessories and SUNTANS. Zoe spat inwardly before her train of thought took an even darker track.

What about the chavs? What if THEY were his type? For a moment, Zoe saw a horrific image; Tony lay on a bed with Taylor and Bianca, the three of them writhing and thrusting and moaning and…

"Hey," Tony said, breaking into Zoe's thoughts. She looked up, meeting his concerned gaze. He glanced down, looking at her wrist, which Zoe just realised was stinging. She looked at the joint and, with muted surprise, realised that she'd been clutching the wrist, digging her nails into the skin as she had watched the theatre of her imagination screen her own worst nightmare. "You okay?"

Zoe looked back at Tony, meeting his questioning glance with steady eyes. "I'm fine. Really." She released the grip on her wrist, seeing with detached satisfaction the white crescents of her nails fade to red on the abused skin.

Tony held the look for a few moments longer before turning away. "Just checking." Zoe felt guilty for a moment, wondering if Tony truly didn't understand what was on the proverbial table. With exasperation she wondered if anyone could be that stupid.

"Are you hungry?" she asked absently, wishing more than anything to avert any more questions about whether or not she was "okay".

Tony shrugged. "I could murder a pizza. You fancy?"

"Yeah," answered Zoe, still not really think about what she was saying, just wanting…she didn't know what she wanted; it may as well be pizza.

The apparently-stupid boy stood, walking to collect his knives from their various positions in the wall, pulling his shirt on as he did so. He glanced back at Zoe, his eyes lingering on that dark, sexy and damned uncomfortable corset that she had seriously been regretting wearing.

"Maybe you should cover up a little," he commented, his lips twisting at the corners into a wry smile. Zoe shot him a sarcastic glance, moving to collect her clothing.

_Well…at least he noticed._

Kelly stood in the kitchen, leaning with contrived calm against the table, watching Cal stir various pots that stood on the stove and trying to ignore the terrible pounding of her own heart. Not even the smell of whatever kind of sauce Cal was throwing spices into with reckless abandon could distract her from her thoughts.

She fingered the embroidered St Trinian's badge on her chest, the hand gradually straying to the cold metal of her Head Girl's badge. She looked down at the tiny shield, her badge of office, and swallowed. If she couldn't face this, then she wasn't fit to be Head Girl in the first place. What in the world would Miss Fritton say if she could see her second-in-command now; frozen with numb terror at the idea of telling a boy how she felt about him?

It was now or never.

"Cal?"

Breaking off from swearing quietly at the food he was stirring, Cal turned, smiling at Kelly. Kelly tried to return the smile, managing a passable upturn of the corners of her mouth. She took a deep breath…

And turned to the doorway, as did Cal, as Tony walked in, accompanied by Zoe. There was an awkward silence. Zoe, one of the emos, did not, as a rule, associate with anyone who wasn't an emo. Kelly could only remember speaking briefly to her about three times; neither of the conversations had exactly been a revelation. There weren't many topics that would represent neutral ground.

Cal and Tony had eyed each other warily upon entry; Cal knew first-hand what Tony was capable of with a knife; Tony knew that Cal could make his blood pressure spike probably fatally in less than five seconds of speech. But men always seemed to be able to sense the intentions of other males, and the two teenagers quickly relaxed, going back about their business.

"Sorry about the knife, Kel," Tony supplied, rummaging around in one of the large fridges.

"You'd be sorrier if that thing had hit me," Kelly responded, glancing at Zoe out of the corner of her eye as the diminutive emo settled next to her. Zoe caught her gaze, nodding slightly to her. Kelly returned the nod. She noticed that the girl seemed even more ill-tempered than usual; she was practically glowering into empty space. She was willing to bet that Tony was behind it. She nudged the shorter girl, who twitched slightly in surprise, looking at Kelly. The Head Girl raised her eyebrows, silently asking the question she already knew the answer to. Zoe responded with an almost unnoticeable nod of her head, her eyes still dark with irritation.

Kelly couldn't help it; she had to smile a little. She had never really thought of Zoe as a being to whom attraction was a concept; seeing her like this was an interesting development.

Her eyes turned to Zoe again who, this time, was already watching her. She had seen the Head Girl's slight smile and had raised an eyebrow, obviously bemused as to what had provoked it. With Cal and Tony in such close proximity, however, Kelly was unable to say anything aloud, and so could only smile once more.

This time, Zoe reluctantly returned the smile, quickly flashing her sharp teeth. Without exchanging a single word, both girls sat down at the table, sitting in what was now a comfortable silence.

A few moments later Cal, amidst a fresh batch of cursing now added to by Tony's Spanish, turned off the stove, dumping whatever manner of pasta he had created into four bowls, which Tony placed at the table.

"You can thank Cal for this," he told Zoe. "He's trading a meal for a few minor considerations."

Zoe nodded to Cal, who returned the gesture, sliding a bowl over to Kelly. For several minutes silence reigned as the four teenagers ate the pasta that was covered in the strangely aromatic, blood-coloured sauce. It was actually quite delicious, if you were able to ignore the feeling that your tongue was vibrating inside your mouth.

Finally, however, Cal broke the peace. "I don't suppose any of you know where the Courier is now, do you?"

Tony shrugged. "He's my lawyer slash accountant slash bodyguard. I'm not supposed to take care of him. Why?"

"I wanted to negotiate with him about something."

"Anything interesting?" Zoe asked. Cal glanced at her, hesitating for a second before he continued.

"The usual. I need to act as middleman for a coke trade, but I want to renegotiate my fee."

"We DO have chemists here, Cal," Kelly pointed out. "I'm sure you could…negotiate with them." Cal shot her a look, frowning at the hesitation. Kelly kept her expression completely neutral; she gave nothing away, especially as she didn't even know what she was hoping not to give away in the first place.

After an uncertain silence, Cal shrugged. "I believe in customer loyalty. Besides, the deal's already been made. Backing out of it now looks vaguely unprofessional."

This time the pause was more awkward; Cal had clearly caught Kelly's tension at work and, naturally, was suspicious. Having suspicions was, in his line of work, beneficial. Say what you want about paranoia; without it, Cal would have a lot more than a few bruises.

To Kelly's surprise, it was Zoe who next spoke, breaking the tense silence that had settled. "When do the negotiations start?"

Tony shook his head. "Valuing and appraisal starts tomorrow. Negotiations take place the day after that. Why?" he asked, twisting a strand of spaghetti around his fork. "Eager to get rid of us?"

"Just want to know how business is doing. I do live at this place too."

"Well," Cal interjected, "if it's business you want to know about, then you should probably find the Courier; it's all he's ever interested in."

Kelly ate her last piece of pasta, settling back in her seat. "What's his real name? I've always wondered that."

Cal and Tony both shrugged.

"We don't know," Cal supplied. "He never said, and it's not on any kind of record we can find."

"What happened?" Zoe asked, her usually latent curiosity getting the better of her. Her answer was simply another couple of shrugs. Clearly the past of the Courier was a gated community. And now she would be thinking about that for the rest of her life.

She glanced at Kelly, who had a distant expression on her face, head cocked slightly to the left, and she realised that Kelly was also considering the great mystery that, apparently, was the Courier. She had to try her best not to snort with laughter when she realised the Head Girl was wearing exactly the same expression as she was.

Cal rose, scratching his head. "Do you guys have a gents bathroom around here?"

"In a girl's school?" Kelly asked, happy to hear that a hint of her lazy mockery had edged its way back into the tone of her voice.

"Actually, seconded," said Tony, also standing. The two boys glanced at each other, both apparently immediately suspecting a trap on the part of the other.

"There's a disused one down the hall from here," responded Zoe, breaking up the quickly blossoming stare-down. "It works fine, just try not to inhale any of the atmosphere."

Cal and Tony knew enough about St Trinian's to hesitate.

"So…why exactly…"

"The trustafarians use it as a private party room," Kelly explained. "A lot of their little herbs and spices got into the atmosphere. So long as you don't sit around breathing deeply for ten minutes, you'll be fine."

Cal nodded. "Seems fair enough. We'll be back in at least ten minutes. Come on, Tony."

The two young men exited the room, lightly jostling each other as they did so. Kelly leaned forward in her chair, propping her chin up with her hand. She sighed.

"What's your problem?" Zoey hissed; a sharp tinge of bitterness in her voice. "At least yours notices you."

"Not everything," Kelly replied glumly, twisting a strand of her hair. "I take it that's what YOUR problem is, then?"

"My therapist tells me otherwise but, yes, right now…that's my problem."

Kelly smiled a little. "I thought you said that only the Posh Totty have therapists."

"I said WILLINGLY have therapists. My own sweet daddy dearest insisted on this one. He's worried that I have too many negative influences in my life."

This time, Kelly laughed. "I hope he means us."

"Please. As if he knows about what goes on here," Zoe responded, showing the hint of a smile herself. "His biggest concern is my Nightwish collection."

"Ah."

"Does YOUR old man know what happens in this place?"

Kelly shrugged. "He doesn't know that much at all. Left before I was born. Never met him."

Zoe hesitated, seemingly in conflict for a moment before responding. "I'm sorry, Kelly."

Kelly shrugged. "Don't be. Apparently he was a bastard."

"Explains the cutting and running, I guess."

"I guess."

For a moment, there was another silence.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Zoe asked.

Kelly looked at the emo, who returned the look with some challenge. She tried to hold the shorter girl's gaze, but her eyes dragged themselves away. "Yeah," she finally answered, her voice quiet, a faint tremor running through the words. She looked back at Zoe, and the two shared a glance that said more than either of them could say in an hour.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Are you going to tell Tony that you want him to notice your eyes, breasts, arse and legs?" This time, it was Zoe's time to look down.

"Look…I don't want to freak him out. I've never…there's never been…" Zoe's eyes met Kelly's. Again, something passed between the two girls in a single glance. Kelly nodded, sighing at the state of the world in general.

"And you think that Tony…" she started.

"I want it to be. I just don't know." What could Kelly say to that? Poor Zoe.

"There's the party tonight," she suggested. "Maybe after a few drinks it'll be…easier. You know…to talk about it."

Zoe smiled slightly. "I'd kind of been kicking that idea around. It's how most girls' first times go, huh?"

Kelly returned the smile. "Not mine. But…then again…"

"We're not most girls; trust me, I know." Zoe hesitated, seeming again to be on the verge of saying something, but shut her mouth as Cal and Tony entered the room.

"I don't know what your environmentalists are using," Tony commented, sitting next to Zoe, "but we are adding that to the list of things that need to be negotiated."

"We do aim to please," commented Kelly, standing and beginning to collect up the plates.

"Leave those," Cal said, grinning a little. "Tony gets the honour of washing up as a way of thanking me for that quite enchanting meal."

"That was your minor consideration?" asked Zoe.

"That was ONE of the minor CONSIDERATIONS," corrected Cal, his smile now even wider.

"What's the other one?" the emo questioned, eyebrow raised. "A backrub? A foot massage? A sponge bath?"

A hint of evil gleamed in Cal's eyes for a moment as he turned to Tony…only to look down the blade of the knife the South American held to his eye.

"Think very carefully about the next words that are fated to come out of that mouth, Cal," Tony warned politely. Cal promptly gazed at the ceiling, his lips moving silently in what was apparently deep thought.

After about ten seconds of silence, punctuated only by the sound of Cal's frantic thought process, the boy looked at Tony. "Your mother," he began.

Tony's grip on the knife tightened.

"…is an illiterate whore," Cal finished. Tony glared at him for a second, and then lowered the knife.

"Fair point," he commented.

"And factual."

"I know, Cal. She's my mother." Tony turned to Kelly and Zoe. "I can't cut him if it's true. And that accusation was pretty much on the money."

"His mum's a prostitute who can't read or write," Cal translated. Kelly and Zoe looked at Tony, who nodded, unabashed. "Lovely woman, though," Cal added.

There was another awkward silence. Though, at this point, they were beginning to lose their effect.

Finally, Tony turned to Zoe. "I'll wash; you dry?" he asked. Zoe nodded, still looking vaguely confused by the previous display.

Cal nudged Kelly. "We need to find the Courier; if I don't get this sorted now, then I won't be able to enjoy the party tonight. Mind if we run a bit of a search for him?"

"I have an idea where he might be," Kelly replied. She took Cal's hand; a move that even surprised herself. "Come on." She led him out of the room, pausing only to make eye contact with Zoe one last time. The short brunette caught the glance, nodding slightly to her. Kelly returned the nod, and then left the room, Cal behind her.

"Oh, by the way," Cal asked, "what were you going to say before Tony and Zoe came in?"

Kelly hesitated for a moment, and then smiled at Cal.

"I can't remember. It can't have been that important." Cal shrugged, squeezing her hand a little; Kelly felt the gentle pressure send a tingle through her whole being.

She'd tell him later.

She could wait.


	4. Emotionally Unstable

Kelly and Cal were less than amused. They had been wandering the corridors of St Trinian's for several hours, and neither hide nor hair of the Courier had been seen. Even Cal, who had worked with the stoic young man for a number of years, was beginning to become exasperated and surprised at just how difficult it was to find track him down.

They had asked the hippies, the chavs, the emos and even the Posh Totty.

Well…they had found Peaches and, after waking her up from where she was sleeping (on the staircase) and giving her more clothes than she was wearing (none at all), they had asked her if she'd seen him; her response was to simply fall asleep again. Apparently Frank was stretching his legs.

Finally, as the clocks were striking six o'clock, Kelly put forward a new suggestion; they hadn't checked the First Years. Both of them considered it an unlikely place to unearth him, but Cal was desperate enough at the thought of being paid less than he was worth to try it and Kelly wanted to get ready for the party.

"The First Years can't really stay up all day and then go out on the lash," Kelly explained as the two of them walked upstairs. "But nothing's going to stop them going on the lash anyway, so they tend to take a little nap from about this time until eight. Just two hours before they need to start getting ready."

"I realise," commented Cal, scratching his chin, "that my views on alcoholism are hardly…"

"Sane?"

"Pot, kettle: racial minority," Cal responded smoothly. "But even I think the whole preteens drinking thing is a little morally sketchy."

"More morally sketchy than being the middleman in an illegal narcotics deal? More morally sketchy than hanging out with an individual who is possibly a murderer? You're a step away from throwing someone off a roof."

Cal smiled. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

"See; there you go again. It's amazing. You guys should have some kind of stand-up comedy night…"

Kelly walked quietly up to the dormitory door and paused, frowning. She could hear a male voice coming from inside. She nodded to Cal, and opened the door.

Nothing in the world could have prepared her for what lay inside.

The First Year girls, dangerous and destructive as an undiscovered landmine to a girl, were sitting in bed, all of their attention on the young man in the centre of the room. In one bed, Tara and Tania, the two miniature mafia dons of the First Year, sat side by side. At the foot of their bed sat the Courier.

A book was open in his lap.

"_Sollozzo reassured him. "Try the veal, it's the finest in New York." The solitary waiter had brought a bottle of wine to the table and uncorked it. He poured three glasses full. Surprisingly McCluskey did not drink._"

The Courier paused, looking up as Kelly and Cal stared at him. "Can I be of any assistance to either of you?"

"Are you…" Kelly took a breath. "Are you reading a bedtime story, Courier?"

The Courier nodded impassively. "It has become something of a tradition as of late, Miss Jones. The girls do seem to enjoy the works of Mario Puzo."

Cal coughed; it seemed suspiciously like he was attempting to smother his own laughter. "You're reading them _The Godfather_?"

"A highly instructive work, if slightly careless in the narrative."

Kelly and Cal exchanged a glance. It wasn't worth pursuing.

"Now," continued the Courier, delicately placing a bookmark inside the novel to mark his place, "I take it that there is a reason you have been looking for me."

"I need an increase on my percentage in the deal."

The Courier raised an eyebrow, looking at Cal with renewed interest. "I thought that an agreement had already been reached."

"Things have become more interesting. I need some more cash to fund another little scheme I've got planned."

"And you wish for me to be instrumental in providing you with capital in this venture."

"There'd be a good return on your part."

"And what would that be, Calavera?" the Courier asked, passing the novel to Tania. Kelly noticed that the business-like tone of his voice had become, almost imperceptibly, harder. She wondered exactly what the young man was thinking. Either young man.

Finally, the Courier nodded. "Twelve per cent, then."

Cal shook his head. "It doesn't work with less than twenty."

The Courier considered this. "Fifteen."

"Done," answered Cal, hand extended. The Courier shook it briefly. Cal turned to Kelly. "We should get ready for this party."

Kelly nodded, nodding to the Courier as she left, who returned the gesture. She and Cal turned, leaving the room, but not before Kelly noticed, out of the corner of her eye, what appeared to be a spasm of distaste present, for the briefest of moments, on the face of the Courier. As she looked back, it was gone, almost as if it had never been there.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Kelly jogged for a couple of seconds to catch up with Cal, who hadn't broken his stride. "You'll be okay with only fifteen per cent? I thought you needed twenty."

Cal shrugged. "I can get a loan from Tony. He knows a good plan when he sees one. This one actually stands to make him money. Say…" he added, suddenly drawing to a halt, "are you okay? You seem a little…" Cal searched for the right word for a moment. "…distracted."

Kelly nodded with practiced casualness, continuing to walk up the corridor. Cal didn't follow her. "I've got to go back to the car and pick up my evening wear. I'll pick you up at nine?"

"Make it eight," Kelly replied, resisting the urge to turn around. "We're pre-gaming before we head downstairs."

Cal grinned. "This insane alcoholic salutes you." He turned on his heel, walking away. "_Ciao, bella_."

Kelly smiled to herself. Thanks to Miss Maupassant's languages course she didn't have much difficulty translating. Cal always seemed to bring out the Italian eventually.

Shaking herself, she stopped as she passed a mirror, examining her reflection. Good enough for a normal day. In fact, pretty good for a normal night. But not for him. Especially not for him tonight.

She had work to do.

An hour later, Kelly had showered; her hair was perfect and her make-up was flawless. Now she just had to decide what to wear, and therein lay the problem. She had never before realised how many outfits she had to choose from but, at the same time, she had never realised what little choice she had. For the last ten minutes, she had been staring at her wardrobe, unable to decide on even so much as which pair of shoes she could wear.

At least she had the advantage in that Cal had never seen any of these outfits before; the previous visits had never included one of the famous St. Trinian's parties. But she couldn't see any one of the pieces of clothing she owned making the right statement. The statement in question being: "I love you and want you to not hate that". In fairness to Kelly's wardrobe, she had never had to make this statement before, but she wished that she'd thought of this scenario before her last shopping trip.

Finally, she found something that just might do the trick. It was short, black and off-the-shoulder; it probably qualified as "sexy". Close enough.

She quickly slipped on the dress and gazed into the mirror, searching for every possible fault. Eventually, after rearranging the hem for the seventeenth time, she forced herself to step away from the mirror, checking the time. Quarter to eight. He'd be here in fifteen minutes. She looked perfect. All she had to do now was wait.

She stood in front of the mirror again.

Zoe was pacing the room, a black towel wrapped around her. Andrea, her best friend and fellow emo sat on the bed, examining the contents of the shorter girl's wardrobe that strewn over the floor. The other emos, sensing the atmosphere, had politely vacated the dorm room. As much as they loved bad weather, they knew which storms were best avoided.

Andrea held up yet another outfit. "What about this one?"

Zoe didn't even give it a glance. "Let me guess, Andrea," she hissed, her voice trembling slightly. "It's black, isn't it?"

Andrea shrugged. "It's a nice shade of it."

"DAMN IT!" Andrea jumped as Zoe punched the wall. Her best friend was more emotional than she had ever seen her. As far as she could remember, Zoe had never thrown a punch in her life; having an army of the emotionally unstable backing you up rendered certain things unnecessary.

Zoe wasn't finished; she was pacing faster and faster, her eyes wild. She didn't notice that her knuckles were bleeding; she didn't even notice when her towel fell to the floor. Andrea sighed. She knew what she had to do, but really didn't want to do it. Still…sometimes being a best friend meant doing the jobs other people wouldn't.

She stood up, walking over to Zoe, who didn't even realise that she had approached. The slap twisted Zoe's head around, actually knocking her into the wall. Actually…that did feel quite fun.

Zoe righted herself, touching where Andrea's hand had struck her face. She looked at her friend; her eyes were wide with surprise, but a glimmer of sanity was there now. Andrea hoped that it took hold; she had no desire to fight a naked Zoe (for what, given Zoe's newly discovered intolerance for absinthe, would be the second time).

After a tense moment, Zoe nodded calmly, stooping to retrieve her towel. "Thank-you, Andrea," she hissed softly. "I believe I may have needed that."

Andrea smiled slightly. "Are you going to be sensible now?"

"I guess so," Zoe replied, returning the smile.

"Good. Now…you have to stop stressing out about your clothes. What colour do you wear the most?"

"Black. Obviously."

"And when Tony sees you…what are you wearing? Mostly?"

"Black."

"Exactly. And given that Tony obviously has something for you when you're wearing that colour –"

"But that's just it, Andrea." Andrea looked up. Zoe was staring at the floor, not even able to meet her friend's eyes. "I don't know if he does like me." Now Zoe did look up; her eyes shimmered under a film of tears.

For a moment, Andrea was shocked. Zoe had never been exactly the most sharing person as far as emotions went. Every so often, she would snap irritably, curse or, when things were really bad, take a pair of scissors to the chavs' tracksuits. But Andrea had never seen tears in Zoe's eyes; she never thought that she would.

Sometimes, all you could do was hug. So that's what Andrea did.

"You're crazy," she murmured into Zoe's ear, as her best friend buried her face into her shoulder. "Tony never looks at anybody but you. Why do you think they stick around when they could just dump the gear and leave? Why do you REALLY think that Tony doesn't negotiate over the internet or the phone?" Andrea disentangled herself from Zoe's arms, holding her gently at arm's length. A single tear had left its tell-tale track down the girl's cheek; she was sniffing quietly, trying to hold back more. "It's to see you, you idiot. He really likes you."

"But why…why doesn't he…"

"It's Tony. Think about who he spends the most time around."

"Cal…?"

"Wrong. Cal's his best friend, but most of Tony's day is spent around business. That means…"

"The Courier," Zoe replied dully. The tears were wiped from her eyes, and Andrea inwardly sighed with relief. Zoe was finally thinking straight.

"The Courier isn't exactly the most…expressive of guys, Zo. Some of that has to have rubbed off on him. Maybe that's part of why you like him." She looked at Zoe, smiling despite everything that had happened. "You guys do have that quality in common."

Zoe wiped her eyes again, her mouth twisting into a crooked smile of acknowledgement.

Andrea went into her pocket, bringing out a tube of black lipstick. "Now," she said, twisting the black stick free from its metal casing, "let's get you your man."

Cal ran a hand through his hair, and then pulled on a shirt. He checked his cuffs. He tied his shoes. He gave his reflection a smile and left the room.

Tony tossed a knife from hand to hand.

The clock struck eight.


	5. Rock and Roll All Nite

There was a knock at the door. Kelly turned, looking at the clock. Eight. Well…time to face the music. And all of the hell that was about to come with it. She crossed to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

"Chelsea?"

"Hi Kelly. Have you seen Frank anywhere?"

"What…but I…" Kelly sighed. "I thought that YOU would know where he is."

"Well…we did. But, when we woke up, he was gone. You haven't seen him?"

"No, Chelsea. I haven't."

The blonde pouted, tossing her hair with a movement that just HAD to be practiced. "Damn. Maybe he's getting ready for the party." She glanced behind her. "Oh, and Cal's here." Without another word, she turned on her heel, flouncing away.

Stepping into the place Chelsea had just vacated, Cal smiled at Kelly, and then his eyes widened.

"What is it?" Kelly asked.

"You look…" for a moment, Cal really was lost for words. His eyes travelled down the whole length of her body, and then back up, finally settling on her face. "Beautiful."

Kelly blushed, smiling. "You don't look so bad yourself, Cal."

"Thanks." Cal raised his hands, both of which were holding a bottle of vodka. "Your favourite. I know you're not the biggest fan of whisky."

She took the bottle he handed her, turning it over to examine the label. "Eristoff. Nice."

"You're welcome."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their eyes remained on each other. Kelly held Cal's gaze, hoping that he wouldn't see anything in her own glance. She couldn't tell him now. Not now. Later. But she couldn't stay silent for any longer. She blinked; Cal had stepped forward, and she could read the look in HIS eyes very easily. Before his lips could touch hers, she placed a hand gently upon his chest, making him pause in his advance.

"Smudge my lipstick later, Calavera," she said quietly. "We've got some pre-gaming to do."

Cal smiled, nodding. "Sure." He proffered an arm to Kelly. Without hesitation, she linked her own arm through it, and they set off at a sedate pace, basking in the warm glow of each other's company.

"You really are beautiful, Kel."

"It happens occasionally."

The Head Girl and, she supposed, her date stepped into the large dormitory. There was an eclectic collection of company already assembled; Kelly saw emos, flammables, chavs, geeks and the Posh Totty all sitting together, mixing comfortably with each other. She could never stop marvelling at the power of alcohol to bring people of every kind of diversity together.

She and Cal took their place in the large circle of girls. Inside the circle was a pitcher. It was a very large pitcher. Surrounding the pitcher was a ring of playing cards; there were far too many playing cards to just be from one pack.

Cal took one look at the set-up and groaned. "Ring of Fire? You're joking."

"What's the matter, Cally?" Taylor piped up. "Scared of a little bit of alcohol?"

"Not exactly, Taylor," said Tony's voice. Kelly looked around, finding him sitting next to Zoe. Zoe looked beautiful tonight. Everything about her, from her dark clothing to the violent flash of colour in her black hair was somehow amplified, made perfect. Her eyes glowed with something that Kelly had never seen there before. This was a girl who was going to be taken seriously tonight.

She looked at Tony, who continued to speak. "Cal has never had a good experience with Ring of Fire. I think the first time we ever played it, he passed out in his own vomit."

"What happened the last time that he played?" one of the geeks asked.

Tony glanced at Cal, who waved a hand in permission. Tony looked back at the group of girls. "He ended up brawling with some concussed German guy for a whole thirty minutes."

Cal rolled his eyes as the girls laughed. "I'll try to behave tonight," he commented.

Kelly looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not too much, though, right?" Cal grinned, winking lazily in response.

The game began and continued without much incident, although Kelly was disappointed that the first time that they were playing this game with boys present in the dormitory had been quite so tame. She also absently wished that the Courier had been present; at this point she considered seeing him drunk to be one of her lifelong ambitions. She couldn't imagine seeing him as anything less than immaculate and composed.

Finally, however, the clock stood at half past nine. Kelly glanced up the time, and whistled sharply. Everyone looked around and, seeing the time themselves, began to move downstairs for the party.

The room was ready; the teachers loved the drunken debauchery that took place in this hall almost more than the girls did. The School Band had been practicing for most of the day; now drunk and swaying they were eager to play for an audience as inebriated as they were. As soon the girls entered the room, they were hit by a wave of sound that almost physically knocked them backwards. "Teenage Kicks" was the opening song and soon the whole room was dancing, singing and drinking.

Kelly watched the room surge with the girls and felt a rush of affection for all of them. They were a family, and loved each other despite the daily guerrilla warfare, political backstabbing and, she thought with a grin, clothing theft. She couldn't be happier to see the people she considered her sisters mixing and forming a friendship with the man she loved. And, she thought with dull surprise, the idea of loving Cal at all now no longer shook her to her very core.

Kelly began to laugh. It had taken her several moments to realise where all of these warm thoughts were coming from; Cal's vodka really WAS good.

Cal himself, seeing her laugh, stopped what he was doing (gargling straight vodka) and approached, smiling with more abandon than usual. Kelly, also unable to keep a grin from her own face, wrapped her arms around the young man, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't mind smudging the lipstick now, huh?" Cal laughed. Kelly didn't move her arms from around him; Cal's arms encircled her waist, holding her close. They stood there, swaying together in time to the music, simply content to gaze into each other's eyes.

This beautiful moment lasted all too short a time. Cal's eyes widened, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He nodded to the centre of the room, causing Kelly to look in the same direction.

Zoe was dancing in a small area free from any of the other girls, as if there was something not quite material that prevented them from intruding. And she wasn't dancing alone; Tony, a curiously indefinable expression on his face, held the small, dark-haired girl in his arms. Their faces were so close that at some moments it seemed that their lips almost brushed against each other.

Kelly and Cal separated, both smiling at the scene before them. Kelly felt Cal's hand slide into hers and then wrap it in his warm grip. She could feel the blood pulsing through his fingers even through the loud pumping of the music. She tugged on his hand, nodding to the door. Cal smiled at her; it was a strange smile, almost androgynous in its expression. It reminded Kelly very much of the smile that she had seen on Tony's face.

For a fraction of a second, Kelly felt unaccountably frightened. And then, just as soon as it had arrived, the feeling was not only gone, but she could no longer remember having it.

The two teenagers were barely out of the door before Kelly had pinned Cal to the wall (or was it his hands that had first grasped her waist?) and their lips slammed together in what was an explosion of lust, desperation and _love_.

_Was it love? Whose love? Was it her love? Did he have any that he could give? Was any of that for her?_

_I love Cal._

_I love you, Cal._

_I love you._

"I love you."

Kelly felt Cal's hands momentarily tighten on her slim waist like a bear trap before springing open. His lips peeled from hers, but his eyes burned into her pupils with more intensity than she had ever seen; she felt like his very gaze was stabbing into her like one of Tony's knife.

He blinked, the fire in his eyes flickering and dying. In that second, he looked like a young boy, lost and confused in a world he never wanted to be in. For a moment, the most indestructible man she had ever known was the most pitiable creature that could have existed.

Cal looked away, taking a deep breath before he could turn his eyes toward her again. "I…" he started, his voice cracking. He swallowed, face pale in the dark corridor. "I have to go."

Before Kelly could say anything, Cal had turned on his heel, vanishing from the corridor as if he, just like Kelly's fear, had never existed.

Zoe could feel Tony's arms firm around her; she could feel his warm breath on her face; she could smell the delicious, bitter taste of liquorice in his mouth. She had always hated liquorice ever since her first attempt at drinking absinthe (Andrea still hadn't entirely forgiven her for her naked guerrilla attacks) but right now it was all she wanted to taste.

Tony looked at her, and she felt that small yet at the same time huge feeling that left her in no doubt that in the next five seconds…

Four.

Three.

Two.

His lips pressed against hers. Two seconds fast.

Oh well.

It was her first kiss. Her first kiss from a boy. Her first kiss ever that hadn't come from a truth or dare game or from an absinthe-fuelled assault on her best friend.

It was the greatest moment of her life. Every single second of it. She loved the soft feeling of her lips on hers. His hand that moved up her back to caress her dark hair. That deep, sacred black behind her eyelids.

It was her first kiss of the rest of her life.

God bless the taste of vodka and liquorice.

Finally, the kiss ended. She and Tony simply looked at each other. She saw him blink, trying to clear his head; she watched him try to remain detached; and her heart leapt as she saw him fail.

And then he kissed her again. That was pretty good too.

Kelly walked through the corridor without seeing the walls or floor or where she was going. All she knew was that she wanted to walk until she could stop crying. She didn't even know where she was.

_He never loved you. You ruined it. And now he'll never want to be near you again. What the hell were you thinking, you stupid bitch. Stupid stupid stupid._

Suddenly, against all of the bile and fury that was churning around in her mind, Kelly hesitated. She could hear a piano playing. This was so unlikely that, for a moment, she actually forgot that there was a storm of sheer black desolation raging inside her.

Kelly shrugged. Time to find out what else could go wrong tonight.

Zoe and Tony were still pressed against each other, sometimes kissing, sometimes just swaying gently to the music. It was quieter now; a slow, melancholy melody that allowed for some conversation, if any was required. Zoe and Tony didn't require it.

Andrea, leaning against the wall, couldn't keep the smile from her face. It had almost been worth all of the angst and nudity that had led to that one kiss. Plus, she had discovered a newfound love for delivering a hard slap across the face. And if Tony stuck around, then there'd be plenty of opportunities to engage in her new hobby. And even if he was the best boyfriend that had ever lived, she could still practice on the chavs. Life was definitely looking good.

Zoe's hand reached up to brush a ginger lightly against Tony's lips, who smiled softly, lowering his head to kiss her again…

…when he frowned, taking a phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his eyes widened. He turned back to Zoe, his expression surprised and apologetic.

"What is it?" she asked.

Tony looked up at her. "It's a message from the Courier. It's…important."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "How important?"

Tony must have sensed how she felt; he must have known what she was thinking. He held her close for a moment, kissing her forehead softly.

"Deportation important," he whispered.

Zoe managed to keep any surprise of her own from her face as Tony. "That does sound important." She forced a grin onto her face. "I could always come with you. South America could be fun."

Tony returned the grin. "You'd tan very fast," he said, stroking a finger along her pale complexion

This time, Zoe's smile was genuine. "Make the call."

Pausing to kiss her on the cheek, Tony turned away, walking smoothly through the dancing girls, placing the phone to his ear. Zoe watched him leave, the smile lingering on her face.

She turned to see Andrea approaching, who raised an eyebrow. Zoe shrugged, unable to get rid of the damn smile on her face. She hoped absently that she wouldn't have to be so happy ALL the time. Her mouth was aching already.

"Drink?" Andrea suggested.

Zoe was inclined to agree, but then remembered that she wasn't the only one who had gone into this evening with a plan. She had seen Kelly and Cal leave the room, and wondered if her Head Girl had been able to tell him.

It may have been her own happiness bubbling inside her (and that emotion really was getting on her nerves already) or the large quantity of alcohol that she had drank in order to achieve that happiness, but she found herself wondering more and more about what had happened to Kelly.

She turned back to Andrea. "I'll be back in a bit. I just need to do something first." At the expression on her best friend's face, she remembered too late the perils of being intentionally vague in situations like this. Andrea's smile was growing by the second.

"No," she protested, "it's not like that, it's just…" She tailed off; Zoe knew a lost cause when she saw one and persuading Andrea that she was not about to go all the way with the boy she had just spent the past hour kissing certainly qualified. She shook her head, simply walking away.

After ten minutes of wandering in what she began to suspect was a circle, Zoe was regretting her decision. She was drunk; she was losing her jaunty mood (so things weren't all bad) and she was fairly certain that, no matter what happened, Kelly probably wouldn't welcome any intrusions. Especially not if it had gone well.

Suddenly, Zoe drew to a halt. There was a delicate, tinkling sound. It was piano keys. In the entire time that she had attended St Trinian's she had NEVER heard anybody playing the piano. It was almost eerie in its sheer…otherness.

Zoe smiled. First she'd kissed Tony and now she was tracking down the haunting sounds of a ghostly piano.

Best night ever.


	6. By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Zoe stepped down the corridor, following the steadily growing music of the elusive piano. Finally, she paused outside the door to a classroom from which she could hear the faint tinkling of the instrument. She could also hear crying.

Curious, she pushed open the wooden door, stepping over the threshold. Inside was something that she could not have imagined.

Kelly was sprawled on the floor, her head propped up against the wall. She was holding a bottle of vodka loosely in her hand; it was almost empty. The Head Girl had been drowning her emotions and it looked like they'd been good swimmers; she looked one more sip away from passing out.

But, as rare as it was to see Kelly Jones on the verge of unconsciousness (being Head Girl didn't mean that you couldn't debilitate yourself; you just weren't supposed to be seen doing it), it wasn't the most alien sight in the room.

The Courier was sitting at the old, dusty piano in the centre of the room. His fingers caressed the keys with elegant grace as the sound of _Clair de Lune_ filled the room. He seemed so absorbed in playing the song that he didn't even seem to notice that she had entered the room.

Frank lounged elegantly next to the piano. He held a small glass of red wine in his hand, but he appeared sober, his eyes closed as his head bobbed to the beautiful music. Zoe couldn't imagine a less likely trio. Then again, it had been a weird night.

The Courier's head twitched slightly as she shut the door, and he glanced at Frank, who shook his head. Frank turned, nodding lazily to Zoe, who approached.

She indicated Kelly. "What happened?"

"She made a mistake," Frank made a wry face, sipping his wine. "I think that she's just finding out how much of a mistake."

"What mistake?"

Frank went to answer, and then looked up at the Courier, who nodded imperceptibly. Frank turned back to Zoe, lowering his voice. "She told Cal that she loved him."

Zoe's eyes widened, and then narrowed as she realised what this meant. "He turned her DOWN?" she whispered.

Frank shook his head. "Not in so many words. But…it's not really a mystery. Cal is…" The young man fell silent, seemingly unsure how to phrase it.

"Calavera is not the most straightforward or, for that matter, pleasant individual that you will ever meet," the Courier interrupted, still playing the soft tune. Frank looked up at him, an irritated expression on his face. The Courier ignored it, continuing. "He doesn't fear commitment; he isn't afraid that he would be a pitiful excuse for a partner; he has no insecurities about any of it. He simply does not wish to stop having fun. And, for Calavera, being romantically attached to any person would mean that he would be unable to be physically intimate with any other. He is not ready to do that. Perhaps he never will be." The Courier shrugged: a tired gesture. "Miss Jones is unfortunate in that she is a far better human being than Calavera ever can be."

"That's not being entirely fair, Courier," Frank said quietly.

The Courier looked down at the young man who was gazing back up at him. "You would like to claim some portion of that responsibility, cousin?"

Frank sighed, turning reluctantly to Zoe. "I…" He tailed off, considering for a moment. "Some of this is, in a way, my fault. I had quite a large influence on Cal. I may be the reason that he's so…"

"So like you," Zoey finished.

"You could say that. I taught him how to seduce women; how to be like some sort of…sex object. You see how he holds himself? How he acts?"

Zoe nodded.

"I showed him how to do that. I…made Cal: made him like this. I never really thought that it could have been a mistake before." Frank shrugged, taking another sip of his wine with a bitter expression on his face. "I never thought that being me wasn't a good thing."

"You're being too hard on yourself," the Courier calmly interjected. "You never hurt anybody. You made what you were abundantly clear; often in the most tasteless of methods. People were given warning."

Frank nodded in admittance. "I do have a reputation." He sighed again. "I didn't think that Kelly would really fall for him. Then again…"

"All girls love bad boys," Zoe said, sighing herself. She glanced again at the Head Girl, who didn't seem to have heard the conversation, or even noticed that Zoe was in the room. "Has she said anything?"

"We attempted to talk to her when she first arrived," the Courier stated, "but she didn't wish to discuss the matter. I imagine that myself and my cousin are the most inviting shoulders to cry on."

Zoe frowned. "You're cousins?"

"I know, right?" said Frank, smiling for the first time. "Not much of a resemblance. But we're related on my mother's side. I inherited more of the family nature. Courier was always something of a black sheep in that regard."

Zoe could have sworn that the Courier had rolled his eyes as Frank spoke.

"Still," Frank concluded, "we get on alright, don't we, cousin?"

"Impeccably," came the impassive reply.

Frank and, despite herself, Zoe smiled. The emo's grin faded, however, as she looked at Kelly.

"I'll try and talk to her," she said. Frank nodded, and Zoe stood, walking across the room to where Kelly lay.

"Hey," she said. Kelly didn't even look up. "Mind if I sit down?"

The Head Girl shrugged; even such a tiny movement conveyed just how pitiful her classmate felt. Zoe settled herself down next to her and, for a moment, she simply sat there, not willing to break a silence so thick that it seemed as if it could choke her. She was aware of Frank very expressly not watching what was happening as the Courier simply gazed at the ivory keys his fingers danced over.

Eventually, Zoe knew that the time for speech had come. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kelly turned her eyes to look at Zoe, who was shocked at how dead and cold they had become. It was as if, between Cal's refusal and her vodka intake, Kelly had lost that spark of liveliness and mischief that had made her such a dominant force in the St Trinian's school. Zoe couldn't believe she had taken anything, even something so obviously devastating, this hard.

For a moment, Zoe wondered if slapping Kelly would work, and then disregarded it. Empty eyes or not, she was Head Girl for a reason, and Zoe had seen enough evidence for that; she liked her nose unbroken. Instead, almost unable to believe that she was doing it, she put her arm around the older girl, who stiffened, almost a tremble, before cautiously relaxing. Kelly Jones was on a hair trigger.

"I'm sorry, Kelly," Zoe whispered. "I really thought it was going to work out."

Kelly simply laughed; it was a harsh, ugly sound. Zoe saw Frank and the Courier now watching from the centre of the room.

"Maybe you've had enough to drink," she said, reaching for the vodka. With speed that made the emo jump, Kelly hurled the bottle across the room with a yell. It shattered against the wall, splashing onto the floor. For a moment, all there was to hear was the tinkling of glass shards.

"Feel better?" Zoe asked.

"No."

Zoe sighed. This was why she didn't like helping people. But something about their situations had been so similar; it could easily have been her that ended up like this. And she knew that Kelly would help. And, yes, maybe it was because she was the Head Girl. But she was also a good person.

Maybe that was the real reason she was Head Girl.

Zoe was shaken from her thoughts as Kelly lay her head on the emo's shoulder. She felt dampness on her bare skin, and she realised that the older girl had been holding back tears the entire time. Wrapping her arms around her, she felt Kelly shake, then again, and then continuously as she began to cry in earnest.

The girl turned to look at the Courier and Frank, who were now making no secret about watching what was unfolding. Zoe beckoned them over and, without hesitation, they approached. Frank sat on the other side of Kelly, placing his arm around her as well. The Courier, of course, kept his usual polite reserve, yet did take his handkerchief from his pocket, placing it gently into Kelly's hand.

For a long time, they stayed just like that. It was all that they needed for a while.

Finally, Kelly spoke. It may have been two minutes. It may have been ten. It may have been an hour. But she spoke.

"I…love him. And he doesn't…he doesn't love me back." She looked at each of the three of them in turn, her eyes red and damp, but tears no longer falling from them. "Do you know what that feels like?"

"No," replied Zoe.

"No," replied Frank.

The Courier didn't say anything.

"I…I just…" Kelly stared at the floor. "What am I supposed to do now? He's…he's not going to want to be around me. He's going to HATE me…" Kelly looked back up at them again, new tears forming in her eyes. "What am I going to do?"

This last sentence was said in such a quiet, scared voice that Zoe genuinely couldn't think of anything to say. She had never been confronted with someone that was so defenceless; she had never in her wildest dreams expected it to be someone that she actually answered to. Sometimes, there are no words that can be said.

Sometimes you just don't know what needs to be said. Sometimes nobody does.

This apparently had never happened to the Courier before. He stood, silently, but with such swiftness that Kelly, Zoe and Frank flinched. For a moment, something passed over his face, too fast to see. He looked at Kelly, his face now neutral.

"You are going to stop crying. You are going to stop drinking. You are going to wake up the next morning and you will face this like you were Kelly Jones: the Head Girl of St Trinian's school. Calavera should never have been able to hurt you. You must ensure that he is not able to again." The Courier turned away. "You will remember the girl that Kelly Jones used to be. Because even though you already know what to do if this is what you suspect it is…you can do nothing like this."

Zoe glared at the Courier. He was going too far. She opened her mouth, ready to protest, but she was cut off before she could begin; Kelly had risen to her feet, unsteady and holding the wall. She looked with moist eyes at the Courier, who did not turn.

"You're right," she said. Kelly looked at Zoe and nodded. "He's right." The Head Girl sighed, wiping her mouth, smudging her lipstick yet more as if to wipe past kisses from them. She slumped against the wall once more, unable to stay upright. "I need some sleep," she sighed vaguely.

Frank nodded to Zoe, helping Kelly place her arm around his shoulders, supporting her. Carefully, he helped her walk, slow and unsteady from the room.

Before the two of them had reached the door, Kelly hesitated, Frank stopping with her, as she turned back to Zoe.

"Tony?"

Zoe nodded, showing the ghost of a smile. Kelly didn't return the smile, but did the nod, then allowing Frank to lead her out of the door.

For a moment, Zoe simply stood there, watching the empty doorway. A lot had happened that night; it was still too difficult to process all of it.

As she stood, lost in her thoughts, she became aware of a voice. It was the Courier, his voice audible as he stood in the darkest corner of the room, the moon's faint glow casting a silver light on his outline.

"_It shone, pale as bone, as I stood there alone. And I thought to myself how the moon, that night, cast its light on my heart's true delight. And the reef where her body was strewn._"

"Very pretty," Zoe commented.

"Something I remember from a long time ago. Circumstances make it seem appropriate."

Zoe nodded. "It's funny. You don't seem to me like someone who would enjoy poetry."

"Nobody is an open book, I believe."

"Speaking of which," Zoe pressed, "what did Tony need to speak with you about before?"

The Courier frowned slightly. "When are referring to?"

"A little while ago, he had to talk to you. That's why he left. He said…" The truth hit her like a steam train. "He was lying."

"No."

"No?"

"Well," the Courier amended, "yes. Yet not for the reasons you may suspect, and certainly not for the same reason that Calavera is now absent."

"Then why?" Zoe hissed, her hand beginning to wrap itself into a fist. She'd known that this was too good to be true. She just KNEW IT.

"He is afraid that he will hurt you," the Courier replied simply, his voice firm and even.

Zoe stared at him. "Hurt me? W…what? How could he…" she lapsed into silence. It was just one more thing that she was unable to process right now.

The Courier sighed, turning to face her. "I cannot tell you everything that you may wish to know; don't ask me to say more than I do now." The Courier hesitated for a moment, an almost unseen fault in his demeanour, before he spoke again. "Our mutual friend once knew a young woman. His feelings towards her were…vivid."

Zoe's hands clenched again.

"Yet," the Courier continued, "she felt nothing for him. He tried to forget her, but some things are impossible. One day he…made a mistake, as my cousin would say it. He never saw her again. And, since that day, Tony Copal has always been afraid of his proximity to women; he has always been afraid that he will hurt another. He is afraid, I believe, that he is afraid to hurt you." The Courier sighed again, turning away. "And that is all that I can tell you." He stepped across the room, crossing to the doorway. As he reached the threshold of the room, however, he hesitated, looking back at Zoe.

"I hope that you may be the one that can change him."

The door shut behind him. And Zoe was alone.


	7. All Alone With My Memories

Zoe stood in the room for some time, thinking about what had taken place. She remembered her kiss, Kelly's tears, Frank's explanation and the Courier's confession. The night had, without a doubt, been the most confusing she had faced in a long time.

She didn't know how long she had been standing, alone, gently stroking the black wood of the piano. All she knew was, after however much time had passed, there was a knock at the door.

Zoe turned to the door, frowning in confusion. "Come in?"

The door opened, and Tony stepped into the room. The two of them looked at each other for several seconds, neither of them certain what words would be best.

Finally, Zoe lowered herself down onto the piano stool, her eyes still on Tony, who approached, sitting down next to her on the school.

"I think," Zoe said, "we need to talk."

Tony nodded wryly. "I thought we would." He looked at Zoe. "Do you want to go first?"

"The Courier told me about…" Zoe hesitated. "He told me why you left when we were dancing. About what happened…before."

Tony stiffened. "How much did he tell you?"

"He said that it was all he could say."

Tony sighed, relaxing slightly. "That sounds like him." He sighed again, turning to face Zoe more fully. "I guess…you've got a right to ask me what you want to know. And you can ask right now but…" Tony angled his risk, checking his watch, "given that it's three o'clock, I'd appreciate it if you kept it short."

"There's one thing that I need to ask now," Zoe replied. "I'll ask everything else tomorrow morning, but I need to know the answer to this question before I know what to think."

Tony closed his eyes, as if in so much fear of what was approaching that he didn't want to see her saying it. "Go ahead."

"Do you like me?" It took so much to say that Zoe felt more vulnerable than she had ever thought possible. "I mean…really like me. Not like Cal, or Frank."

To her surprise, and in direct contrast to how she felt asking the question, Tony had opened his eyes, a smile playing about his face as he looked at her.

"Of course I like you," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking away a strand of her hair that had fallen in front of her face. "I really like you. And, I promise you…I wish that it could be so simple that we both knew what could happen next. But…"

"It's not." Zoe completed the sentence for him. There wasn't really anything else to say. What else could you say?

She yawned, trying to stop herself, but three o'clock was three o'clock. Tony smiled, placing a cautious arm around her. They sat like this for some time, both wondering who would be the first to bring this moment to an end.

Tony, ever the gentleman (albeit a knife-throwing gentleman with a now-mysterious past), saved Zoe the embarrassment. He stretched, deftly removing his arm from around the girl, and stood, glancing down at her.

"I'm pretty tired," he said, "and I need to find somewhere to get some rest. I guess this is goodnight."

"Don't." It was one word. One tiny, harmless word that Zoe knew she needed to say. She had heard him say that he liked her. The kisses had felt…had felt what she imagined real kisses would feel like if the person meant them. But she could still see Kelly, lying against the wall, tears falling down her cheeks. And she knew that she couldn't let Tony walk out of that door without her.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was the only thing to do at that moment. But she had said the first word. She had to go on.

Zoe looked at Tony. "You can stay in our dorm. You can stay with me." Tony opened his mouth, looking doubtful, but Zoe smiled. "Not like that. Just…you can have a place to stay. And…at least I don't have to try and find you in the morning."

Tony looked at her for several moments and then, smiling with almost calm wonder, offered a hand to Zoe. After only a second of hesitation, she took it.

The sun had come up too early. Zoe blinked, nestling under the covers. She felt hot skin against her own, and remembered last night. Zoe turned her head, facing Tony. The Latino was awake; he'd been watching her sleep. The emo lifted her head and realised with only brief embarrassment that her head was resting on Tony's bare chest. The girl surreptitiously glanced at herself through an opening in the covers. She was wearing her dress; Tony was still wearing his trousers. Thank God…

Tony grinned, knowing what she was thinking. "Yeah, don't worry. You kept your honour."

Zoey returned the smile, biting her lip slightly with embarrassment. "Quiet, you." She hit Tony lightly on the arm. Instead of hitting her back, the boy ran his fingers lightly across her stomach. Zoe, one of nature's ticklish, recoiled instantly, giggling uncontrollably. Not entirely to her dismay, Tony seemed spurred on by this, attacking with renewed vigour. Zoe was helpless; she had never been able to withstand this sort of treatment. It brought a blush to her cheeks as she noticed how eagerly her body was responding to his touch. Even his light touch across her ribcage excited a tingling through her core, as if something had shot through her in a heartbeat. She knew that if this went on, her dress would soon be on the floor, next to everything else that she and Tony were wearing. And that couldn't happen.

But she wanted it to.

Thankfully, it wasn't made her choice. With a final, oddly lingering slide over her stomach, Tony took his hand away, and the two of them lay in the bed, once again gazing into each other's eyes.

"We agreed to talk," Zoe stated quietly, her smile unfading, but a new seriousness in her face.

Tony nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. "Do you want to get up, or ask me here?"

Zoe shrugged. "It's comfortable here." She blushed as she remembered exactly where her head had been resting during the night, but Tony didn't pass comment. He simply nodded, waiting for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. "The Courier…said that you made a mistake. Something to do with the girl you used to…" she hesitated, backing away from the words she couldn't use, "…you used to know."

Tony nodded; his eyes were distant. "Lola. That was her name. I…I really thought…" He lapsed into silence for several moments. It was as if he was back in his own past, staring into that which had been and that he could never change. It seemed a long time until he spoke again.

"There was a party. One night. I had been drinking. Drinking a lot more than I had before. A lot more than I should have done. And…we were talking. I got…" Tony turned away, as if he couldn't bear to see anybody looking at him. "I got angry. I don't know what set me off. All I can remember is having my hand pulled off her throat by one of our friends. I don't know if I would have let go." With obvious effort, Tony looked back at Zoe. His eyes were dark: almost sinister. "I just…ran. Ran away for a long time. Didn't stop. I couldn't. I just ran away. And I never saw her again."

Tony sat in silence for a long time. He kept his eyes on Zoe, but that almost frightening, dark look had drained away. He was human again.

Finally, he shifted in the bed, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry you had to hear about that."

Zoe looked at Tony, moving closer to him. "I'm not," she replied. Her hand found his, holding it gently. "I'm glad I know. I'm glad you could be honest." She smiled, unsure whether she should, but smiling anyway. "I'm happy that you trust me with it."

Tony, once again, gave her that strange look of wonder, as if he couldn't entirely believe that the girl was lying next to him; it was like he couldn't quite grasp that she existed. It was an expression that Zoe had never seen on anybody else's face. She couldn't exactly deny how good it made her feel.

He squeezed her hand under the covers; it was a shared moment of connectivity. It made Zoe realise how much of a step that he had taken in simply telling her this. For a moment, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, kissing him; to taste that bitter liquorice taste once more. But this wasn't the moment. Some things were more important.

"Thank-you," he whispered. Zoe nodded. In a small way, the world had moved. But it had to move more. A lot more.

"What…" She hesitated, trying to work up the courage to ask it. In many ways, this was a great deal harder to ask than the question she had just asked.

Tony, as if sensing the thoughts in her head, gave her hand a second squeeze. This one, like his touch, lingered. Something about that helped her.

She'd have to find out how the bastard was doing that; it was throwing her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was soft. There was a tone of concern present; he could sense the importance of what was about to be said.

Swallowing, Zoe nodded. It was time.

She took a deep breath. "I need to know what's going to happen to us. I want to know if we're going…if we're going to be together." The words came easier now. "Are we going to do that? Are we going to go out on dates? Am I…" Zoe tailed off. It was enough. He knew.

It was the longest pause she had ever experienced in her life. Maybe that had something to do with the fact her whole life depended on it.

It could have been that.

After several moments, Tony sat up in the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Zoe remained where she was, feeling the comfort of his arm gently draped around her shoulder. Her hand reached to his wrist, keeping it pressed to her skin. She needed the contact. They both did.

"I don't know," Tony eventually stated. His face was expressionless; it was the face of a man keeping his emotions carefully in check. Zoe, on the other hand, felt like her blood had turned to ice. Move over, Kelly Jones.

"I want to be with you, Zoe," the young man continued. "I want it more than anything else. I want YOU more than anything else."

Again, Zoe felt that tingling sensation through her body.

"But I want this to work. Like I said; I want it more than anything. And right now…it wouldn't work." Tony sighed. "It's my fault. It's…I can't trust myself now. Even sitting here, with you like this…I'm scared, Zoe. I can't hurt you. I can't hurt anyone again. And I have to be sure of that before…before we can be together." He opened his mouth, as if wishing that more words existed that he could say to her. "I'm sorry."

Zoe nodded. It was…

She didn't know. He cared for her; he liked her; he WANTED her. And he wanted it to work. But, right now, it couldn't.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

But…

He was right. The realisation hit her like a bolt of lightning. Tony was looking at this in the most logical way ever; it was the only way he could. He wanted to be with her and for them to be happy; if he was wrestling with his past, then they couldn't be together the way that they wished.

They had to wait.

Damn.

She relaxed, up until then not aware that she her muscles had been tensed hard whilst these thoughts blasted through her head. She hoped that Tony wouldn't notice. Or that he at least wouldn't say anything.

Tony didn't comment, but he was watching her, waiting. Zoe noticed in almost frantic amusement that he was holding his breath.

She didn't try to force a smile; she didn't need to. It would be insulting to try and make him believe in a fake grin and false cheer. What Zoe did do was nod slowly, looking the boy next to her in his eyes.

"You're right," she murmured. She sighed, letting every emotion fly out with her breath, banishing any of it from her mind. She slipped out of the bed, standing in the dormitory in her black dress and tangled hair.

"I need to get ready," she said quietly. She raised her eyes to him. "Where can I find you when I'm done?"

Tony nodded himself, knowing a dismissal when he heard it, but also aware that the bridge wasn't burned; they weren't finished with this yet. A quick glance from Zoe made him certain.

He climbed smoothly out of the bed, stooping to remove his shirt and shoes. Quickly pulling the items of clothing on, he moved to the door, and then hesitated, his hand on the brass handle.

Before Zoe could say anything, he had crossed the room, standing in front of her within a moment. The two looked at each other for another moment and then, as if through circumstances stronger than their own mundane sensibilities, they embraced, holding each other tight.

As quickly as the hug had happened, it finished, leaving the two of them, again, just watching each other.

Tony smiled; it was a slight, regretful smile, before walking back to the door. He left the room, the heavy wooden door swinging back as he stepped into the corridor, obscuring her from view.

Once again, Zoe was alone.

Kelly was sitting on her bed, head in her hands. Her head felt like somebody had taken the nearest blunt object to hand and had worked out their Freudian issues on her skull. It was hell's own hangover.

There were none of the typical morning-after episodes. There was no vomiting; there was no nausea; there was no slow trail of remembrance from the black-out that was last night. In fact, there was no black-out at all. She could see everything that had happened with vivid clarity. Nothing was left out.

She could remember lying against the wall, tears dripping from her eyes. She could still feel Zoe's arm around her. And she remembered the firm words of the Courier. Those firm, painful, CORRECT words. She couldn't do anything as the snivelling schoolgirl that she had been last night. And it was okay. Today, she was Kelly Jones. Head Girl. She held that cold, metal badge in her hand and, not for the first time, thought about all that it meant; she thought about every girl who'd carried that tiny shield before her.

She couldn't let them down.

She couldn't let herself down.

There was a knock at the door. She looked at the dark wood; she knew exactly who was behind it.

Kelly stood, sweeping the hair out of her face. She needed to see clearly.

"Come in."


	8. Send In the Clowns

The door swung open quietly. Cal was standing on the other side. He looked at Kelly, as if waiting for invitation to enter. She nodded, and the boy stepped over the threshold. Kelly looked at him more carefully; Cal was a mess. Stubble cast a dark shadow over his jaw, though lighter than the two that smudged under his eyes; his shirt was carelessly unbuttoned. It was the look of a man who knew what the day had in store for him and didn't much like the knowledge. For a moment, Kelly felt that peculiar rush of pity for him, but choked the instinct. Not again.

Cal coughed quietly into his hand before looking at Kelly again. "We…I think we need to talk."

Kelly's face was impassive. "Do we?"

Cal walked forward, his approach tinged with caution. Clearly he had not expected to find the Head Girl so calm this morning; it must have been surprising. She didn't suppose that she had been in much shape to do so last night. Thank-you, Courier.

"Last night…" Cal started, and then paused. Kelly kept her eyes on him. There was no sympathy in those eyes.

"Yes," Kelly interjected. "Last night. Last night, when you listened to me tell you that I loved you. Last night, when you left me standing alone like some stupid..." She tailed off. She wasn't there to get angry. It was more than that.

"I'm sorry," Cal said. There was something in his eyes now; Kelly could see a dark glint in his eyes. Something was stirring in the young man in front of her. "But," he continued, "I think I deserve a chance to explain why –"

"So explain."

Cal looked at Kelly, and THIS time it was a glare. The Head Girl felt a lump in her throat, but ignored it.

"I didn't come here to fall in love, Kelly. I was here to see you. I didn't ask for any of this. I wasn't the one who fell in love."

"No," Kelly laughed bitterly. "You didn't come here to fall in love. You came here to screw me. You just came here for a quick fuck, Cal."

Cal actually flinched at her response. Kelly hadn't expected that reaction; she had only known the boy before her as a jaded, cynical individual. She hadn't imagined him being squeamish around her summation.

"You know I'm better than that," he snarled. His eyes were locked onto hers now, but Kelly had no difficulty holding the glare that he sent her way. Whatever had changed since last night was working its magic right now.

"You know; that's the thing. I really don't. I don't know anything about you, do I? At least, I didn't until last night. Last night was a bit of an education, I'd say."

Whilst she was talking, Cal had turned away, apparently in an attempt to keep his facial expressions in check. His voice was forced and constricted. "I never wanted to hurt you, Kel. I really do like you. It's just…"

This time, Kelly didn't interrupt. He didn't deserve the help. He shouldn't need it.

It took Cal rather a long time to continue from where he'd tailed off. Facing the cold anger of the Head Girl can't have been good for eloquence or quick thinking. She had seen this happen before. She had never imagined before that Cal would have to stand before it.

Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was slower, more thoughtful, but with a hint of bitterness. "I'm not…I'm not someone who falls in love. It's not who I am. And it's not you; I swear, if it was any other way…I'd want it to be you. It's…" Cal stiffened suddenly, as if sensing the right words to say, yet knowing that they shouldn't be spoken.

He looked into Kelly's eyes, as if searching for something there. Whatever it was, he couldn't have found it, because his own eyes flickered with some of that self-loathing she had heard in his voice the last time he had spoken.

"I'm not going to be tied down to anyone, Kelly. Even if it was you. And nobody can change that. Not even you. And if you can't let me be who I am, then maybe…" He left the sentence hanging, and at that moment, Kelly wouldn't be too upset at the sight of Cal hanging next to it.

"Maybe what?" she asked, her voice cool and level.

Cal shrugged. "You know what."

And that was it. There was the ultimatum. And, believe it or not, that wasn't what hit Kelly so hard. It was the shrug. It was the emotionless eyes. It was the calm demeanour with which Cal had said the words that, yesterday, would have burned Kelly's world to ashes.

She turned away from Cal, not able to even look at him anymore. "Get out."

His expression softened, tinged with something approaching alarm; he hadn't expected her to call his bluff. "Look, Kelly –"

Cal threw himself to the floor as the bottle of whiskey that, only a day ago, they had shared together, flew across the room with deadly purpose, only to shatter against the wall behind him. He looked up, and NOW he looked truly alarmed. Kelly's eyes were glinting with something he had never seen in them before; she was breathing hard and, despite her best efforts, a solitary tear had leaked down her face.

Her voice, however, was still calm. "I said get out."

Cal was no stranger to assault. He was familiar with having bottles thrown at him. About sixty per cent of all communication in his life was him being yelled at. There was nothing in this room that he hadn't seen before.

He got out.

Zoe faced her reflection, brushing her hair into her usual style; her make-up was flawless; she was ready. A sad smile lit her face. On the one hand, she knew that there was a chance that she and Tony may never be together. But, on the other hand, they might be. Maybe that was enough. Enough for now.

Gee. Way to be pathetic, emo chick.

She sighed. Pathetic or not, it was better than the alternative. Tony was right; they needed to go into this as if they WANTED it to work. Anything other than that would be…

Well, pathetic.

The door opened. Zoe turned as Andrea stepped into the room. Seeing Zoe, a mischievous smile lit her face and she crossed the room to her best friend.

"Last night. Details. Now." Andrea was apparently too excited to do anything other than get to the point. Queuing last night's events up in her head, she couldn't exactly blame the girl. There'd been the kiss, the leaving the party early, the waking up in the same bed…yes, it made sense.

She placed her hands on Andrea's shoulders, attempting to calm her fellow emo down. "Look…Andrea…it's not what you think." She smiled wanly. "We kissed, and we want to be together, but…" Andrea looked at her, confused. "It's…complicated," Zoe finished lamely.

To her surprise, Andrea nodded. "Are you going to talk to him now?"

"Yes," Zoe sighed. "I think we're working stuff out."

Andrea smiled. "Tell me later." She hugged her friend quickly before stepping aside. "Good luck."

Zoe returned the smile, checked her reflection one more time, and left the room.

She found Tony, to her surprise, in the First Year dormitory. He was with the Courier, and the two of them, along with several of the First Year girls, were looking through a sheaf papers spread out on the desk. Other First Years were apparently in the act of making some kind of jelly.

Polly, the red-headed chief of the resident geek squad, was also in the room. Amused and feeling slightly lost, Zoe stayed silent for several seconds, waiting to see what was said.

Tony crossed to Polly, who was running some figures through her computer. "Do you have an answer?"

Polly, readjusting her glasses, scanned the figures on her computer quickly. "Well…for that body of water…and for this brand to heat, set and cool…and to NOT be toxic…you'll need eighteen packets and to set it up six hours before you want it to be ready."

Nodding slowly, Tony scribbled some figures down in notebook. "Then we'll have to make it on a Wednesday. Means we'll have a decent shot at it. Thanks, Polly."

Polly offered Tony her hand. "Cat's in the bag."

Tony shook the hand. "And the bag's in the river."

The geek did a double-take, pulling her hand away from the young man's grip. "That's ever so slightly sick."

Tony shrugged. "I thought it was quite good." He stiffened momentarily, turning around to look straight at Zoe. He smiled.

"Courier, can you finish up here?"

The Courier nodded, his eyes meeting Zoe's for half a second before looking back at the papers. Tony walked over to the emo, his smile fading slightly.

"Time to talk?"

Zoe's hand reached out, lightly touching Tony's own. "Don't look so worried. I'm not a psychopath."

Tony raised an eyebrow, receiving a punch on the arm for his trouble. Laughing quietly, the two of them exited the room.

After several minutes of walking, Zoe and Tony found themselves on the roof, looking out at the school grounds. It was a beautiful view, if you could ignore the craters. And the screaming.

"So…" Tony asked, as they absently watched a shrieking First Year being dragged across the landscape by a tractor, "do you want to start?"

Zoe tore her eyes away from the scene on the lawn, looking at Tony. After months of knowing him and scrabbling through her own strange emotions in order to find out what that strange feeling was that she had felt when she and Tony's eyes had first met, she never thought that she would be having this conversation. She was becoming less and less certain about how good or bad that was.

"I…know that you're right," she managed. "I want to be with you. I want that to happen…well…more than anything else. But I want it to work. I mean…I REALLY want this to work."

Tony smiled, and Zoe could a hint of that sadness that she had seen in her own reflection less than ten minutes ago.

"And between waiting for you…for US to be able to be together and just taking a risk...then I'm waiting." She looked at Tony again, and now she was completely in control. "I'm waiting for you, Tony Copal." She grinned slightly, a hint of her own inner spark displayed. "And there isn't anything you can do about it."

Again, there was that look that Tony had given her twice before. It was the same, quiet look of what seemed to be almost disbelief; it was as if he couldn't entirely believe that he had arrived at this point with. And Zoe realised that maybe he hadn't been so unaware of her as he had always appeared to be.

In the end, Tony didn't respond with words; he held out his arms in invitation. The weight lifted off her shoulders, the faint promise of a sunrise for a later day…everything was as perfect as she could have wanted as she walked into Tony's embrace, and felt his arms hold her, feeling the light touch of each other's hair and the softness of skin on their faces. They stayed this way for a long time.

They were two lives that wanted nothing else from the world.

Kelly sat on a different roof, in a different mood. She could feel every single one of her white-hot thoughts and emotions slamming into her brain one after another, each one of them causing her fists to tighten momentarily. She had seen Zoe and Tony's scene from where she sat. She found dull surprise that there was no bitterness in her mind towards either of them. They were happy; somebody ought to be. It damn sure wasn't her.

A footstep behind her made her stand, turning swiftly to face the individual who had ventured out onto the roof.

It was Cal.

Kelly turned, sitting back down. "You're not that great at taking a hint, are you?"

Cal shrugged, walking over the roof surface to sit next to her. For a while, both of them were simply watching Zoe and Tony embrace in a cold, distant silence.

"I am sorry," said Cal. He didn't look at Kelly as he spoke; she didn't look back. "If I thought that this would happen…"

"You'd what?" Kelly asked. There was no anger. She had used all of it. Now they were just…talking.

"I don't know," the boy murmured. "I'm just…different." Now he did look at her. "I'm sorry you had to…"

"Fall in love with you?" She looked at Cal. Even now, she could sense the same violent, passionate energies that there had been last night when she had pushed him against the wall, their lips slamming together…but that was all a memory now.

Cal smiled slightly, an expression that made him look over a hundred years old. It was that odd, androgynous smile that had so startled as they had left the party together. Now, she didn't blink.

There was nothing for her to feel anything about any more.

Zoe never wanted to pull herself away from Tony's gentle embrace, but she knew that it was time. There was no struggle to extricate herself from his arms; he stood back and gazed at her as she pushed some hair out of her face. For a moment, she stood on the edge of the huge void she was about to create. She knew that she would hate herself for saying the next words out of her mouth, but she owed it to both of them for Tony to hear them.

"I…don't want to see you," she began. The young man's eye's widened in confusion before Zoe continued. "I don't want to see you or hear from you…not until you're ready." She looked at the floor, but then forced her gaze back up. He deserved that. "Don't make me go through that."

Tony nodded, understanding flooding into his face. Zoe returned the nod. She began to turn away.

"Zoe."

She stopped, turning back. Tony was simply…looking at her. There was an intensity in his gaze that was just so powerful; too powerful to ignore. For that moment, you could see the world bending around him.

He simply said: "I promise."

That was all Zoe needed to hear.

She walked down the stairs to her bed, managing to hold back her tears until her head hit the pillow.

"So what do we do now?" Cal asked, both he and the Head Girl next to him watching Tony stand on the roof, looking somehow lost.

Kelly sighed. She'd regret this moment, but not forever. That was good enough right now. "Cal…you have to go. This is just…" She looked at him; he seemed calm, holding himself together well. This alone gave her the ability to finish. "I don't want to see you, Cal. Not for a long time. Maybe not forever." She had to look away again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Cal stood, wiping his clothes down as he did so. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me. And I am."

"Not enough," Kelly muttered. Cal paused, as if trying not to say something.

"Not for you," he finally managed.

Kelly stood, looking at him. "Head Girl," she answered with a sad smile. "Different standards. You should try it."

Cal returned the grin, but with none of the sadness; his pride was keeping that back. "As if I could ever be Head Boy. Somehow I doubt it's in my future."

Kelly nodded; her smile fading.

Finally, Cal just turned away, walking from the roof.

And that was it. Cal Calavera was gone from St Trinian's forever.

Lest we forget.

Kelly may have found it ironic that the last words he ever said to her were a lie. In fact, Cal had lied to her three times since the first time they'd kissed.

Within a few weeks, he would be in love.

Within a few weeks, he would be Head Boy.

And, within a few weeks, he would have thrown somebody off a room.

It happens.

_We are the best…so screw the rest…_

The words echoed through Kelly's brain like a half-forgotten memory as she stepped through the corridor, turning left into an empty classroom. She sat on the desk, thinking about all that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. She was calm; she was deliberate; she was completely in control.

_ We do as we damn well please…_

Still calm, still deliberate and still fully in control, Kelly stood, picking up the desk that she had been sitting on.

_Until the end…St Trinian's…_

She looked at the open window. She absently hoped that there was no-one directly under it right now; she wasn't going to check.

_Defenders of anarchy._

The desk plummeted down from the window, completely failing to hit an art dealer, his teenage daughter or their very old car. Some people are protected by elements stronger than chance. As it did with Kelly Jones, fate had a role for them to play.

The Head Girl considered throwing a second desk out after the first, but disregarded the notion. The first one hadn't made her feel better; it had actually just made her realise that she didn't have any aggression that she needed to get out. She had lost it.

It was time to get back to business. Back to being Kelly Jones; Head Girl. She exited the classroom.

She needed a damn drink.

Kelly walked down the corridor as the bell rang. She stepped smartly into a doorway as the tell-tale rumbling started, like a flash of lightning before a flash of thunder. A second later, all hell broke loose in schoolgirl form as every single girl the school held collided in the same spot, giggling, yelling and fighting and…shrieking?

She picked up the unfamiliar noise, zooming in on the just-as-unfamiliar brunette girl, who was trying and failing not to get knocked in every single direction. Kelly couldn't see her properly, but she was new alright. She didn't know how to handle herself here.

Kelly sighed. Back to business.

She waited until the chaos had died down, leaving only the new girl, panting and red-faced. Kelly stepped into the open. The important thing about welcoming the new sacrificial lamb into the school was to not be nice.

That was fine. Kelly wasn't feeling up to being nice right now.

"Your old man's roller looks like it's seen better days."

The new girl turned. It took all of Kelly's self-control not to visibly react. The girl was beautiful. Not even the demure jumper and the plain ponytail could hide it. She was stunning and she didn't even know it. Kelly felt her heart slam against her ribcage.

Damn.

She managed to force herself to listen to what the girl was saying. Something about her father? "…gallery in Mayfair." The new girl fixed her with what she thought was an authoritative look. She couldn't pull it off. It didn't matter; Kelly was hooked.

"I'm Annabelle. Miss Fritton's niece."

Oh, this was just getting better and better. Now she had a crush on the NIECE of the HEADMISTRESS. Could Kelly Jones pick them or what?

She fought to keep her voice casual and with a hint of her trademark sarcasm. "I'll have someone come fetch your bags."

"I'm sorry," Annabelle Fritton asked, answering Kelly's false politeness with her own, "I didn't get your name."

She approached; her pace calm and sedate. "Kelly Jones." She placed some more emphasis into her voice. "Head Girl."

Annabelle, unable to stop herself, gave the beginnings of a snort. Kelly glanced at her, vaguely surprised. For the goodie-two-shoes type, she had some spirit. She…THEY might be able to use that.

She brushed past the girl, not knowing for how much longer she could keep her face impassive. This year was about to get VERY interesting.

"Welcome to St Trinian's."


	9. Epilogue

It was almost a year later. Many things had changed.

Kelly Jones looked at the clock in what had been her old room; the silken arm of Annabelle Fritton draped over her bare chest, and groaned. Duty called, but she couldn't leave the goddess that lay next to her. Thanks to a traditional St Trinian's makeover, Annabelle's hair was now a beautiful collection of deep chestnut curls which fell carelessly over her face, and under that horrific school uniform there was a slim form that came alive at Kelly's touch.

The former Head Girl nuzzled her head into those curls, knowing that she had never been happier.

Cal paced around the room, thinking deeply to himself. He felt the eyes of the identical twin girls in the room on him as he paced, the only people that he had ever loved. He promised himself that, whatever happened in the next few minutes, they would not be hurt. Finally he stopped moving, opening the door next to him.

"Time to go," he said.

Tony walked across the large field, heading for the small building in the distance. He thought about what was going to happen; about what could happen. He wondered if he'd be alright at the end of it.

Lost in his thoughts though he was, he was still caught off-guard as he saw the face of Zoe in his mind's eye, gazing at him across a year of silence and forgotten memories.

He wanted to see her again.

He wanted to hear her voice.

The knowledge battered him like a hurricane, making him stop in his tracks. He stood there, one foot held off the ground, for what for him was an endless passage of time and regrets.

He reached into his pocket, dialled a number on the phone that he took from it, and put it to his ear.

Zoe was sitting on the roof, looking out over the grounds of the school. She often came to this spot alone. It held for her a moment too important to forget.

She thought of Tony often, but had never quite believed that he was ever coming back. As the year's anniversary of her first kiss approached, with no kisses since that magical night, it was insanity even to hope.

But sometimes, in her quiet moments, she caught herself hoping nonetheless.

Something vibrated against her breast; she heard a snatch of meaningless noise that was her ringtone. Without even looking to see who was calling, she placed the phone to her ear.

"Yeah?"

"_Hey, emo chick_."

Zoe's eyes widened; her hand clenched on the phone.

The world stopped turning. It had arrived at where it needed to be.


End file.
